Weekly Rejects: 90s Dope-fiend Poetry (1996 I & II)

 

needle
I can almost draw.

I’ve been a slacker on this blog–big surprise there! That should be coming to an end as I just found an arsenal of poetry, and my writer friend on the FaceCrack, Brandon, came at me with praises when I shared what I thought was a word salad to make us laugh. This means I have content to share regularly for my Weekly Rejects blog posts.

I call these poems rejects because I have personally banished them into the depths of an external hard drive to never see the light of day. I’ve since had a change of heart and feel comfortable sharing them, even if they show my youthfulness at the time they were scribbled in drug-fueled haste.

This particular series, I titled 1996, were all written when I was 15 years old. During that year, I left Florida for the first time and went to Indianapolis where I shot morphine and heroin, lived above a costume shop with two friends–the owner let me sort buttons and accessories for a job, and I love old tiny things, so it was perfect for me–and wore minidresses I made out of trash bags, electrical tape and scrap metal to a goth/industrial club that never carded me.

1996 has 10 parts. I will share them in sets of two over the next five weeks. I presume I’ll be tempted to delete them after a while, but I will do my best to fight the self-defeating embarrassment veiling a deep vulnerability that I must allow to run its course.

Feel free to share or comment. I’d especially love to hear about your personal misadventures in traveling under the influence, if you care to divulge.

Thanks for reading!

-Jaime A.D.


1996 Part I

Hopeless convulsions
In my deranged excitement–
Deprived compulsory addiction
Eats away at my last conscious thought
Or even destiny.
Glass slices my face,
Salt grains fall upon my fresh wounds;
Signs of existence—how disappointing.
I then laugh hysterically
At all of this obvious ignorance–
We’re all so pathetic.
Sickened, I fall to my knees,
And pray for nothingness to take me away.
I stand with wounds covered
In salt, dirt, and an amount of plants;
I must laugh at all of this madness.

1996 Part II

Thoughts twist–
I grasp my knees & shiver.
Comprehension simultaneously shatters;
I know I’ve seen this place before.
Familiar agony,
Romantic slaughter,
Clouds my vision.
Lost in this self-inflicted imprisonment
With no desire for escape.
I wilt away in compact apathy,
Delayed deception;
I demanded this enslavement.

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